


Knuckles

by RhianthiAlritak



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Big Giant Mess AU, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Suicidal Ideation Mention, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, autistic characters, death mention, post-Iokath, self harm mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 12:16:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhianthiAlritak/pseuds/RhianthiAlritak
Summary: Rhianthi slips into old habits. Joyshum is worried.





	Knuckles

**Author's Note:**

> Fair Warning: I wrote this when I was having a really bad depressive episode.

Joyshum found himself pacing. Frustrated and disgusted and disturbed by his sister's decisions.

She hadn't been like this in a long time, so close to the edge, teetering on the cusp of darkness with hatred clouding her mind.

He hated to admit it frightened him. The sharpness in her voice when she spoke. The concern that radiated off of Lana. The scars on her knuckles, fresh and raw.

A slight increase in surveillance would have been acceptable, expected even.

The fighting, the betrayal, the four new faces she'd chosen to accept into her inner circle.

All of this could have justified an increase in security. But not like this. Never like this.

And then, there was the issue of Theron.

Joyshum tried to remind himself that it wasn't fair to blame Jace Malcom's actions on the decisions of his sister. But the man's death clearly tore at Theron, and he hated it.

"I'm the last person he'll want to discuss this with." Indessell had told him, her voice had been heavy, weighed down with sorrow, but he suspected she was right. Any attempts she made to help would be brushed off as "Jedi meddling", he'd done the same once before, six years ago. "And I suspect you know more about this than I would anyway."

She was right, of course, she was always right. Joyshum hated that too.

For a while he'd wondered if perhaps Indessell and Lana and everyone else were wrong, that perhaps the way Theron was choosing to cope was fine, acceptable even. But then he'd noticed Rhianthi, and the way she drew back into her old habits, the way she'd stew in her own emotions, letting everything build up to a breaking point, and then come crashing down.

He remembered the scars on her knuckles.

* * *

Rhianthi was a mess. Her amber eyes bloodshot, although whether the cause was a lack of sleep or crying was anyone's guess. 

She scraped her fingers across the stones again, letting out a sharp hiss as the jagged edges dug into and tore at her flesh. It was a distraction, and one that was sorely needed, or so she told herself.

It may have been true, the burn of shredded skin was the only thing currently keeping her mind off of the ever more tempting idea of simply placing her saber against her chest and igniting the blade.

"I couldn't do it anyway..." she murmured "not to Yuo'ie. She already lost me for five years, I won't force her to say goodbye forever." She drew her knuckles across the stone once more, letting another hiss leave her throat, more reflex than a genuine reaction to pain at this point, stopping only when she noticed the red on the ground beside her, blood dripping from the freshly opened wounds.

She stood, slowly, eyeing her surroundings carefully as though she was watching for someone, she was, she supposed, attempting to keep this from her daughter at the very least.

"I thought I'd find you here." A gruff accented voice spoke, and Rhianthi turned her head sharply.

"Joyshum." She said.

"You're bleeding." He replied, biting at his thumb. That would bleed soon too, Rhianthi suspected. But unlike hers, Joyshum's habit wasn't deliberate. The blood was an unfortunate side effect of his absent-minded gnawing, not the intent. The fingers on his robotic hand twitched, he was nervous.

"What do you want?" She asked, though the question was an empty gesture and they both knew it.

"I want my sister back, Khavni. Go away and let Rhianthi come play." Joyshum regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, and the sneer that spread across his sister's face only further confirmed this.

"That is not my name." She snapped, the words sharp. "Khavni Alritak is-"

"Dead."

"Do not interrupt me, you insignificant pathetic excuse for a half-wit." Lightning was already sparking from her left hand, there had been a shift in her voice, her words less spoken and more spat. Another place, another time, he may have seen her threat as genuine, but he knew Rhianthi, knew her too well to be scared away by the small light show in her palm.

"You aren't going to hurt me." He said, calmly, not an order, an understanding. She was shaking, barely holding herself together underneath the facade she wore.

"You don't know anything!" She growled.

"You aren't going to hurt me." He repeated. Watching as Rhianthi dropped her arms to her sides, sunk down, and buried her face in her hands. Joyshum moved closer, sat down beside her, and didn't say a word.

They sat there in silence for a long time, Rhianthi would occasionally look up, to confirm he was still there. His lips turned upwards into something reminiscent of a smile, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here as long as you need me." A gentle reassurance, a side of the man only a select few ever got to see. His words were genuine and soft, and to Rhianthi, they meant the Galaxy.


End file.
